Creeping Terror

by Justin Richards

  ‘We can hardly put the broken statues back together again,’ Maria pointed out.

  ‘But we can destroy the church tower,’ Growl told them. ‘It used to be the force that held the Green Man back, when the statues of the saints were intact. Now it’s become a symbol of his supremacy and his freedom now the statues have gone.’

  ‘Which is why the tanks are not firing on it,’ Ben realised.

  ‘Destroying the rest of the village,’ Knight agreed. ‘Returning that to nature, but preserving its own source of power and influence.’

  His words were punctuated by the distant thunder of an explosion.

  ‘It won’t take them much longer,’ Gemma said.

  ‘And then the tanks will roll out of the village and keep going, taking the Green Man with them,’ Ben said. ‘Nowhere will be safe.’ In his mind’s eye he could see again the horrifying contents of the tank – a weapon of destruction driven by a force of nature …

  ‘The natives are getting restless,’ Maria said.

  All around them the grass was twisting and leaning as if in a breeze. Trees swayed and thrashed.

  ‘To the tower,’ Growl ordered. ‘Quickly.’

  ‘But how can we destroy a church tower?’ Ben asked.

  His words were lost in the noise all around them.

  ‘It knows what we’re saying, what we’re planning,’ Knight shouted. ‘How can that be?’

  Growl shook his head. ‘It senses something, certainly. We must hurry.’

  Together they ran towards the tower. It was like running into the wind while wading through deep water. The tower was dark and forbidding, rising up over the churchyard. The church itself looked small and fragile by comparison.

  Maria hacked her way through the thickening jungle of plants. Ben and the others forced their way through after her. The sound of the approaching tanks grew louder and closer with every second that passed.

  Ben was near enough now to see the alcoves in the sides of the tower, where the statues of the saints had stood. The carved foliate heads – the representations of the Green Man – were still there. Hideous, misshapen faces stared out from the midst of carved wreaths of foliage. Blank eyes watched sightlessly from a mass of leaves and stems, stained green by the damp years.

  Except that the eyes were not blank or sightless. They were intent, staring at Ben and his friends with malevolent life. The faces looked down on them, snarling in rage – just like the face Ben had seen inside the tank.

  16

  THE WALL OF FOLIAGE WAS BULGING AGAIN. The noise was deafening. A huge battle tank tore through the undergrowth, its tracks shredding grass and branches.

  Ben was standing right in front of it, frozen to the spot. He felt someone grab his shoulders and drag him away. The two of them fell, the tank crashing past just a metre away. He saw Gemma and Rupam leaping for cover on the other side. Growl and Knight were also rolling clear. Twisting round, Ben saw with surprise that it was Maria who had saved him.

  She got to her feet and retrieved her fallen sword. ‘Don’t mention it,’ she yelled above the sound of the disappearing tank.

  There was a massive straggly hedge around them. No sign of the others.

  ‘It’s trying to keep us from the tower,’ Ben said. ‘Oh, and yes – thanks.’

  Maria forced a quick smile. ‘We need to get back to the others. There’s no way we can destroy the church tower on our own.’

  ‘There’s no way we can destroy the church tower full stop,’ Ben told her.

  But he didn’t know if she heard. Maria was swinging the sword in a wide arc, lopping off the ends of plants, hacking through branches. The narrow leaves of a weeping willow dipped towards them. Maria’s sword sent them spinning away like green confetti.

  The whole landscape had changed as the mass of vegetation moved in. It was difficult to tell even where the tower was any more. The trees arched above Ben and Maria, so it seemed as if they were in a vast green cathedral.

  They backed away towards the gap where the tank had driven through. Already it was closing up, like green doors sliding unevenly across. Above the constant rustle of the plants, Ben could hear the distant crump of explosions and the rumbling of the tanks. Beyond that he thought he could hear someone shouting – Rupam? Knight?

  ‘Come on,’ Ben cried.

  He could think of only one way to demolish the church tower. Only one way to bring a halt to this whole business – assuming Growl was right.

  Maria backed away from the encroaching plants, sword poised.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re following that tank.’

  She spun on her heel to swipe away a trailing bramble and said, ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we need it,’ Ben told her. ‘That’s why.’

  ‘We need a tank?’

  ‘Unless you have a better plan?’

  ‘You don’t have a plan,’ Maria told him. ‘But that’s fine, because neither do I. So let’s go find a tank.’

  Now that it would have been useful, the sound of the tanks’ engines had all but died away. They fought their way along a narrowing avenue of greenery. Pale leaves glowed where the sun was struggling to break through.

  The sound was muffled, but Ben could hear an engine. He saw the exhaust smoke before he saw the tank. It was buried in a mound of moss and overgrown vegetation – as if it had been standing there for years, not minutes.

  ‘Waiting for something?’ Maria wondered. She was whispering, as if afraid the tank – or the plants – might hear.

  They picked their way closer. Maria hacked away hanging creepers and chopped through a root that reared up in front of Ben, preparing the strike.

  ‘Growl said the tanks were going to take the Green Man’s influence with them, out of the village,’ Ben said. ‘Maybe it’s getting its strength up to do just that.’

  As they edged closer, they could see that the blanket of ragged green covering the tank had not grown up round it. It was spilling out of the open hatch on the top. Twists of ivy and other weeds curled out of the end of the gun, while brambles and bindweed wrapped themselves along the barrel.

  Ben reached up and grabbed one of the trembling weeds that were poking out of the gun. It snapped between his fingers.

  ‘It’s brittle.’

  ‘All the plants are getting brittle.’ Maria swung her sword in a low arc, snapping through a variety of branches and stems to make the point. ‘There’s not enough water in the soil to support the sudden growth.’

  ‘Dry and brittle,’ Ben said thoughtfully.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Maria asked.

  Her face was shadowed, stained green by the filtered light. It made her look even more moody and sullen than usual.

  ‘I’m wondering if you can drive a tank,’ Ben said. ‘That way at least we can get through the jungle.’

  Maria’s sullenness was gone in an instant. ‘I’ll give it a go.’ She paused to hack away a fern that lashed out from the shadows. ‘But we need to evict the current occupants first.’

  The note of the engine changed, deepening as they approached. The tracks began to move – slowly eating into the mossy ground, wrenching out the tangled plants that were wound into the metal sections of the track and the wheels.

  ‘It’s moving!’ Ben shouted above the increasing noise.

  ‘Yeah, I noticed.’

  Ben ran, his feet sinking into the spongy ground. It seemed that the earth itself was pulling at his ankles. He was heading for the back of the tank as it started to move away.

  Ahead of him, Maria grabbed hold of an overhanging creeper with her free hand, swinging herself up on to the thick branch of an ancient oak tree. She ran along the branch. Leaves grabbed at her, while smaller limbs whipped across. The branch itself began to twist and buck under her feet. She ignored all this and jumped, landing surefooted as a cat on the back of the tank. She bent her knees to absorb the force of the drop, bringing her sword up at once, then chopping down
on a tangle of long grasses and bindweed that hurled itself at her.

  Gathering speed, the tank began to pull away from Ben. It was now or never. As he ran faster, he could feel his heart thumping, his legs straining. He jumped for the back of the tank.

  Maria’s hand grabbed hold of his wrist as he fell just short. She wrenched him up beside her with a strength born of desperation and adrenalin. Ben stood there gasping as she hacked away at the writhing plants.

  ‘They certainly know we’re here,’ Maria yelled above the straining engine. ‘What now, Mastermind?’

  Ben pointed at the open turret of the tank, where a green shape was heaving itself out, growing so rapidly it looked as if it would swamp them. Maria seemed to understand and hacked a way across the back of the tank towards the rising mass of green.

  As soon as she was within range, she swung the sword hard at the leafy pillar forcing its way up from the hatch. The blade bit deep. Branches and leaves fell away. But they were replaced almost at once by more.

  ‘I can’t cut away everything,’ Maria shouted at Ben.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ he shouted back.

  The expression on Maria’s face when she saw what Ben was holding was a mixture of surprise, disbelief and elation. Her look made the whole nightmare almost worthwhile. He raised the flare pistol and hurled himself into the midst of the green mass.

  The plants scratched and clawed at his face and hands, tore at his clothes. Only as he reached deep into the foliage, struggling to keep hold of the pistol, did Ben realise he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. Knight had said it was loaded. But did it need priming or anything? Was there a safety catch?

  His index finger was tight against the trigger. He squeezed. It didn’t move – nothing. He was struggling to keep hold of the pistol, scrabbling with his other hand to try to find a mechanism, a lever, anything that might move or twist or click to make it work. All the time, stems and shoots were tearing at his hands, trying to drag away the pistol.

  Finally, he found something that moved – at the back. A cocking lever, maybe? He couldn’t hold on any longer. A length of bramble was cutting into his throat, squeezing tight. Maria was holding on to his legs – the only reason he’d not been dragged bodily into the tank. He tugged at the trigger and felt it give.

  Then the flare pistol was jolted from his grasp.

  Ben struggled back out of the greenery. He’d failed. He’d pulled the trigger and nothing had happened.

  Or had it?

  Even above the engine noise, he heard the whoosh of the flare as it ignited in the cabin. Ben leaned forward again to see what was happening. It was a mistake. Immediately the greenery pouring out of the tank enveloped him, dragging him down.

  17

  ASUDDEN LIGHT EXPLODED IN FRONT OF BEN. A rush of heat, brighter and angrier than the sun. The branches holding him withered in a moment, shrinking back. They shrivelled and burned.

  He hurled himself backwards and knocked straight into Maria. She grabbed him tight, stopping them both from falling.

  A ball of flame erupted from the open hatch on the tank’s turret. It blasted upwards and outwards. Fire ran like liquid across the shell of the vehicle. A wall of flame rolled towards them. The ground on all sides was on fire. Green became red and orange and yellow, with black smoke billowing out. Branches fell, creepers sagged, plants were engulfed as the tracked fireball roared through the jungle.

  With nowhere else to go, Ben and Maria threw themselves forward, into the flames – and out the other side. The tank had been burned clean. The dark metal was smoking. Charred remains of the vegetation emerged from the hatch like blackened bones. Ben could feel the heat through his shoes. He had to keep moving so as not to get burned. His clothes were steaming.

  Together they ran for the hatch. Inside the fire had died down, but the interior of the tank was filled with smoke. The vehicle continued undeterred, crashing through the undergrowth. It lurched violently upwards as it hit something. Stone crunched and shattered like sugar lumps under the tracks.

  A tombstone.

  They were in the churchyard.

  Through a sudden clearing in the jungle, the church tower loomed ominously against the smoky sky. The fire on the tank had all but burned out. The plants around had stopped burning too. A blackened trail followed the tank as it tore through the vegetation. It was only going at walking pace, but nothing was about to stop it. The statue of an angel was knocked aside, wings crumbling. More gravestones shattered.

  The smoke inside the tank was thinning a bit. Maria’s eyes were shining – from excitement, or maybe from the stinging smoke. She pointed down through the hatch.

  ‘Guide me,’ she shouted.

  ‘You know how to steer this thing?’ Ben asked, staring at her.

  ‘No. But it’s got to be easier than trying to stop it.’ She lowered herself quickly through the hatch. The remains of the plants inside shattered as she touched them, crumbling to powdered charcoal.

  Ben leaned down into the tank. The cabin was a blackened mess. He was amazed how cramped the space inside the large vehicle seemed. Maria was strapping herself into one of the seats and reaching for the charred controls. There were small windows at the front through which she could look out, but she couldn’t see much more than the thrashing foliage all around them as the tank forced its way through.

  The whole vehicle lurched sideways.

  ‘We’ve hit something!’ Ben shouted.

  The tank lurched the other way.

  ‘No, we haven’t. That was me,’ Maria shouted back. ‘I’ve got it now. Tell me which way to go.’

  Ben looked up, searching for a glimpse of the church tower through the canopy of green.

  Sam was crouching down at the other side of the hatch. ‘Over there.’ She pointed across to the left of the tank.

  ‘Left!’ Ben yelled into the cabin.

  ‘How much left?’

  ‘Just … left. I’ll say when to stop.’

  The tank lurched sideways again, knocking Sam over. She picked herself up. ‘Driven a lot of tanks, has she?’

  ‘I think she’s still learning.’

  They crashed through more greenery and bumped over a fallen tree.

  ‘Too far,’ Ben called to Maria. ‘Back a bit. Just a bit though. Maybe five degrees,’ he added, looking at Sam to see if that sounded about right.

  Maria’s voice was faint and muffled. ‘How much is five degrees, Mastermind?’

  The tank was realigning, more evenly this time.

  ‘About that much,’ Ben agreed. ‘Just keep going forward.’

  Small trees and bushes folded down and crunched under the tracks. Chunks of broken gravestone went flying. Branches and leaves whipped over Ben and Sam as they clung to the top of the tank. It seemed to be picking up speed.

  ‘Right a bit more,’ Sam told Ben.

  He called to Maria and she corrected the tank.

  The tower loomed huge above them, blotting out the sky – much larger than the tank. They were so close that Ben could see the cracks in the ancient, weathered stonework. He could see the weeds and moss and stonecrop and tufts of grass embedded in the crumbling mortar.

  He could see the carved faces of the Green Man snarling in anger – in sudden horror as they saw the heavy tank smashing through the last barriers between them.

  ‘I don’t think we want to be on the top here,’ Sam shouted to Ben.

  She was right. They were hurtling at the tower, gathering more and more speed.

  ‘Time to get out,’ Ben shouted through the hatch.

  ‘No way!’ Maria yelled back. ‘I have to hold it steady or it veers off. And anyway, there’s no time.’

  She looked over her shoulder and Ben saw her face was set in an expression of determination and exhilaration.

  ‘You jump,’ she told him. ‘I’m staying here.’

  He could tell there was no point in arguing with her. Sam was no longer there – maybe she’d jumped or maybe s
he’d just … gone.

  With no time to see what he’d be landing on, Ben leapt from the top of the tank. He rolled as he hit the ground, tangling in a mass of undergrowth and knocking his shoulder painfully against a tombstone.

  He came to a halt and looked up to see the tank plough into the tower.

  It smashed through the corner of the building, sending stones and mortar flying. For a while, the tank kept going, forcing its way through the building. But then it slowed. The engine was straining, the tracks caught in roots and rubble. The massive tower was leaning to one side. But it remained standing.

  The carved heads stared down at Ben. Even though he couldn’t make out their expressions, he could feel their hatred.

  ‘Maria,’ Ben breathed.

  She was trapped in the tank, which was buried in the side of the tower. With the weight of the building crushing down on the turret, there was no way was she ever getting out.

  ‘Ben, are you OK?’ Gemma struggled out of the tangled undergrowth in front of him.

  Rupam was close behind her. ‘Where’s Maria?’ he gasped.

  In answer, Ben could only point at the tank jutting out from the church tower. As he pointed, the building trembled. A shower of stone fragments fell from the already ruined top of the tower, clattering across the back of the tank.

  The sound of the tank’s engine deepened. Ben could imagine Maria inside, trapped, hearing the rattle of stones on the roof and struggling to get moving again.

  The tank inched forward. The tracks tore into the rubble beneath, finally getting some purchase and easing the vehicle forward.

  As it moved, the tower above shook. More stones fell – larger chunks and blocks. A gargoyle crashed down, shattering to pieces on the side of the tank. Slowly but surely, though, the heavy vehicle was pulling clear – and the tower was collapsing as it did so.